August 15, 2025

Happy birthday to me… 🎶

I’ve been dreading this day for the past six years, since my four year old nephew looked up at me and said “28. Hopey, are you going to die when you turn 28?” Because his uncle, my brother, died when he was 28 and that didn’t make sense.

I’ve called it my “Patrick Birthday,” and I knew it would be difficult, but I never imagined it would be this terrible. A few months ago I imagined the birthday as a source of solemn strength to mark how much I have grown, and to mourn that I would now be “older” than my oldest brother. That alone would have made today painful.

I’ve been dreading this day, and I’ve been mourning it all month.

Birthday.

I used to thank my mom each day on all of our birthdays, praising her for the fact that it was her birth day — the day she did all the work and a day that changed her life immensely. I just showed up.

But now there’s no Mom, and that sucks.

So many people want to celebrate with me, which is sweet and I feel loved, but I don’t want to celebrate. It’s difficult to celebrate with sorrow seeping from your eyes.

Mom made each birthday so special. Most years, she made us us a delicious cake and made the day a big deal! She was a thoughtful gift giver and she was always so excited.

This birthday is special, I suppose, in a different way. It’s sacred: I’m surrounded by people keenly interested in trying to make my birthday magical and sweet, perhaps more so than I have ever experienced before. It’s a day filled with love and gentle care and sweet reminders of my friendships and of those who love me. I won’t forget this birthday, and I will remember all the beautiful acts of kindness so many people have bestowed upon me.

It’s my Patrick birthday. I am 28. I feel old, though so many people still tell me I’m such a baby, ha.

One day, I’ll probably have a Harmony birthday. I’ll turn 51 — “fifty-fun” as we briefly called it — and I’ll be older than my mom. The solemn knowledge of that pains me. I’m not yet ready to be excited about the future, but today I do have hope.

I am loved, I am seen, and there is life and goodness all around me.

One day, I’ll be able to participate and experience the fullness of life once more. Today reminds me that life is a gift, that I am loved, and that the sun still shines.

Thank you to everyone who’s making today special 💙

August 15, 2026

The fresh weight of loss nearly crushed me when I woke up on August 15, 2025. This year, the heaviness encroaches beside me as my eyes open and my heart aches for the Momma who birthed me all those years ago today.

I’m 29 today—I have got to be the most excited person to be leaving her 20s behind. Let’s have an abridged examination:

• 20 — Walter, one of my closest friends, drowns. I graduate college two weeks later.
• 21 — Patrick, my brother, dies by suicide. I move to Florida eleven months later.
• 22-24 — These are quiet, restful years. They are slow and healing, allowing me to rebuild my life after catastrophic losses. By 24, I am learning to feel happy. It is possibly the only time in my life that I experience unreserved happiness.
• 25-26 — Scott and I buy our first house together. We marry, and I’m still learning to be happy. The days feel easy, soft. Carrie’s husband is murdered six months later.
• 27-28 — My momma dies by suicide. I turn 28 two months later, and I lose my grandparents one month after that.

I’ve lived three lifetimes since I turned twenty.

I’ve died three times, but cats have nine lives, right? I’m regenerating my world for a fourth time now. I wonder how many more lives I have left.

Surely, my thirties have got to be better than my twenties. But who knows?

Maybe the rest of my life won’t be so hellish, but maybe it will.

All I know is that today, I’m 29. I’m celebrating — I’m thrilled that this decade from hell is almost over. I’ve lost many, but the precious few who remain are dear to me and celebrate with me.

I’m hopeful this year, despite all the turmoil, horror, heartbreak, tragedy, and terribleness. Somehow, Hope remains: she’s the hardest thing to kill.

Life has potential. Birthdays are a beautiful reminder that not every ending is tragic—some are to be celebrated and honored and enjoyed.

Cheers to 29. Cheers to the last year of my twenties. Cheers to happy endings and hopeful beginnings.